Goldanna
by Cressida Isolde
Summary: In the alienage, sunlight doesn't reach the vhenadahl until midday.


Alistair had said barely a word since they'd left Goldanna's house. He'd been quiet while they'd still been in Denerim, but since they'd left town he'd closed down entirely.

They were halfway back to camp when she finally gave in. "Are you okay?" she asked, as they walked.

"I'm fine," he said, after a moment. "It wasn't really what I was hoping for, I suppose. I wasn't really expecting – _that_. I – I don't know why she wouldn't…" He trailed off.

She let out a sigh. "She's – had a very hard life," she said, looking back over her shoulder at him.

Alistair's eyes were wide and full of hurt. "You think I'm overreacting?"

"No," she said. "Oh, no. I appreciate that it hurts." She stepped over a sprawling fern. "But you have to understand – her life has been very different to yours."

"I _know_ that," he said. "But-"

"No, listen," she said. "She's had nothing her whole life. She's had to work hard for every coin." She stopped, where she was. "There's this special type of fear you feel when you're not sure if you have enough money for a week's food. It's – a dull fear. Not like a fear of imminent death or apprehension about fighting someone. It's just constantly _there_, your entire life, and it changes the way you react to everything. It makes you _angry_ at how unfair the world must be, if others have so much and you have so little." She stopped for a breath. "And you don't think about the future because you don't really have one. It's just _this_, up until the day you can't work any more and you hope one of your children will let you live with them. How many did Goldanna have?"

"Five," said Alistair.

"That is a _lot_ of mouths to feed ," she said. "And then, one day, some handsome prince in expensive armour opens the door and announces he's your brother. And your first thought might be 'how?' or it might be 'how can I use this?'. Because all she knows about princes is that they take what they want, and they don't always bother asking first."

"But I wouldn't-"

"_It's not about you_," she said. It must have come out more strongly than she had intended, because he actually flinched. She sighed. "If – listen, if she was willing and able to spend the time getting to know you, she would love you. I'm not even saying she _might_ love you, I'm saying she _would_, because you're just – like that. And-"

"Like what?" His look of hurt had become confusion.

"Like-" She frowned, and shook her head impatiently. "It doesn't matter. My point is, it's her issues, not yours. Nothing to do with you."

He let out a long breath. "Why – why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because – well, because I want you to feel better," she said.

"By telling me about how awful her life is?" asked Alistair. "Because that's not really making me feel any better."

"No," she said. "By – helping to explain why she reacted the way she did. I don't want you to be hurt and angry at her for pushing you away. Just – life is hard for some people. It wasn't personal. If anything, feel sorry for her. Your brother's a prince and you've got nothing to show for it."

"I – did," he said.

"Good," she said, turning back to the trail. "Let's keep going, then."

She heard his footsteps behind her as he began to follow. "I'd like to get to know her better," he said. "And the children. My nieces and nephews." He said the last sentence with a sort of wonder in his tone.

"Well, if we're still alive at the end of this, you might get a chance," she said. "But only _if_ she's interested. She might not be. And don't just throw money at her to try and make her like you more, or she'll feel like you're trying to buy her, or something." She shook her head. "I mean, you'll still have to give them money because you presumably don't want them to live in a one-room shack, but – the way you do it is important."

"I'll remember that," he said. "And – thank you."

She shrugged, but made no other response. They walked on in silence for a few minutes.

"What were you going to say?" he asked. "Before. Like what?"

She grimaced. "Like nothing. It doesn't matter."

"No really, what were you going to say?" he asked, curiously. "Like-" She sighed irritably. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

He'd caught up, and was walking alongside her. "Why won't you tell me?"

She stopped, again, and he took a few steps past her before turning back to face her with the beginnings of a smile on his face. Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees, gleaming off his armour.

She glared at him, which only served to make his smile wider. "I was going to say," she began. "That you're like the sun. Because you bring warmth and light with you wherever you go."

His smile dropped off his face, and his golden-amber eyes widened. "W-what?"

"Shut up," she said, stepping past him. "I want to get back to camp before dark."

"But-"

"_No_," she snapped.

After that, the only sounds were their footsteps moving through the bush.


End file.
